"So as the bridal procession went to the church, the eldest walked on the right side and the younger on the left, and the pigeons pecked out an eye of each of them. And as they returned the elder was on the left side and the younger on the right, and the pigeons pecked out the other eye of each of them. And so they were condemned to go blind for the rest of their days because of their wickedness and falsehood."

 

 

How did I descend to this stage? My insanity has become as much a part of me as my fingers, and as uncontrollable and involuntary as the constant fluttering of my heart, as spontaneous as the blinking of my eyelashes. It has forever been within in me. There, like the dead bodies of my victims; buried, but always present, waiting. I believe that there are two types of humans within this world. Humans who don't see what you're doing and humans who pretend to not see what you're doing.

 

Somewhere along the line, within this mundane life, I have decided to pretend I did not see. Pretend I did not notice the horror that lies just beyond the surface of this world. Pretended and suppressed my urges, beating them down and locking them inside of my chest, wincing at the pitiful whimpers that come from my inner beast.

 

It’s sly voice drops into my consciousness at times, melding my pliant will to it’s own, freeing me from my plateaued state, allowing my being to transcend to new heights. My insanity allows me to be god. No, not god. It allows me to be a king, both the weakest yet most important piece within my life’s game of chess.

 

Perhaps it is wrong to call myself insane. I do not find myself insane, not in the least bit, but others do, for why else would the say that I am with such an earnest and condemning voice? Perhaps  I am normal and everyone else is abnormal. Perhaps I am the only person who is sane and all the insane choose to band against me. Because Humans kill needlessly. They call me a murderer when in fact I am not a murderer. For I have never killed a person before. Sure, I have maimed people, but that is not the same. Please people, get your facts straight. State facts openly before distorting them.

 

Ah, but I am a person who manipulates and watches. I take joy in watching as a nameless third party is forced-no, not forced, I never force anyone to do anything. in fact, they are the ones who choose. I merely tell them the options. I love examining the look on a child's face as the father is forced to kill the mother to save the child, and visa versa, the onlookers disgust and shock, the police’s hard stares, the blood, the screams- Ah, I love them all. But more than anything, I love-

 

Humans.

 

Though, even I need rules to live by. Once, while sitting on the couch in the parlor, I took it upon myself to take mental note of them.

 

Don't lie, never ever lie. If I do I am as good as the pigs that surround me.

 

I left my rules at that. Since the sun was beginning to rise on the horizon, and I found it prime time to head up to my room.

 

I opened my curtains, humming a random tune. Upon seeing that it was going to be a sunny day, I began my daily routine, chipper smile placed on my face.

 

Make the bed, go into my en-suite shower, brush teeth, shower, toilet, wash hands.

 

All of those tasks were easy. I spared no thought to what I was doing, allowing my hands and body to move mechanically through the little chores. However, I do have to start thinking now. What to wear...

 

Today was a day off, but I still require to look as dexterously dashing as possible.A few moments later, I left the room dressed casually smart. I adorned a woolen jumper and scarf to protect me from the Autumn breeze, black, sleek dress trousers, and my trusty silver and black headphones. As I leave, the servant tasked every morning with “Waking me” passes by.

 

"Ah! Young Sir, Good Morning! What would you like to eat?" She asked. Happy voice, clear and cheery. Her broad Central American accent almost made my eyebrow twitch, but I refrained. Instead, I contemplated for a moment. After all, a world can't be conquered with a empty stomach.

 

I cleared my throat and nonchalantly answered, ”Just some slightly toasted bread, with some mashed bananas on top." I smiled.

 

"It will be ready shortly.” She did a little bow and headed down the closest stairs.

 

I was living in a penthouse. As a son of a politician, I am very well of. My father also happens to be the senator of this state. A corrupt one that is.

 

I enjoy playing this game, this game in which everyone arounds me sees me as innocent and naïve when I really am not. The house keeper I just passed is my fathers secret lover. Though my mother could care less since she has sustained a chain of lovers longer than he has ever strayed from her.

 

I clicked my fingers as I walked, re-checking that I had everything on my person before leaving. I left my equipment over by the front door and headed into the dining area. I grabbed a warm piece of goat and headed out.

 

"Phone; what's on the schedule today?" my question a bit muffled due to the excess bread crumbs in my mouth.

 

"You're schedule today is," It paused before relaying in my voice; "Study classes at the Plaza from 9am to 12pm. Then, attend and play a tennis.” I then briskly left the manor, making sure to primp my appearance. The tennis bag was heavy against my shoulder.

 

_______________________________

 

The Plaza was a student meeting point in a mall located between the food court and book store. We normally held our study sessions every Saturday so we-I could teach them more about the classes. The study sessions were really an excuse to have as the boys and girls around me seemed to study each other more than the material in front of them. The hormones and pheromones surrounding me were annoying.

 

The people around me fall into the first category.

 

They are all just stupid bugs. They are insects, disgusting flies. They are annoying, a waste of space, oxygen and money. If they couldn't even learn something this simple, then how will they ever be able to comprehend the mass movements and thought processes of people around them?

 

They can’t.

 

"Ah cute!" A girl giggled and attempted to crush her bosom against my forearm. A long time ago I grew tired of these reactions. I yawned, covering my mouth with my scarf while I rubbed my eyes, spreading the moisture from my eyes onto the palm of my hand. I continued rubbing as the moisture continued growing and growing.

 

I'm practically crying from being with them. All of these people are so freaking stupid. Just being around such hopelessly air headed people makes me want to kill someone! Why won’t they just stop assuming and just listen. Why do they not cherish their lives and instead flaunt them like they are immortal? Why must I deal with these people every day? why, why? Why! WHY!!! WHY!!!!

 

I look around army surroundings, allowing the information flow into my brain.

 

That girl eating a cheeseburger, she is bulimic. That guy with his arm around that girl waist is homoual. That girl with too much make up on is trying to cover up the bursted blood vessels in her face from her recent suicide attempt. These people are trying to be someone else.

 

What a pity.

 

Soon, the hour of internal complaining was over. I spent most of the rest of the morning warming myself up for the game of tennis I was having with a professional player. A one versus one private match. I bid my 'friends' farewell and silently went over the next lessons plans of basic multiplication.

 

_______________________

 

"Game set, match!" I called. I had just won three sets too one in the tennis match. The professional I was playing simply fell on his knees limp. He threw his racket aside and pounded the AstroTurf with his hands. I didn't have the time to say "Good match" and neither did I want to. He was pitiful in ability and in resolution. I left for home to prepare for the next day.

 

"Welcome back, is there anything you would like to eat for dinner?" The housekeeper asked.

 

“Nothing, I ate while I was out." I smiled and headed up into my room. I've been planning my first official game for months.

 

I woke up and followed the exact same routine as I always had.  However, today I had extra activities; violin practice and piano lessons in the afternoon. Becoming bored with my violin, I decided to take a walk just around the block a couple of times. I checked that everything was in place, that I was wearing the right clothes for the occasion and the audience and actors were in place.

 

______________

 

I took a elevator down to the lobby and stepped outside. The night air bit at my face, turning my breath into frosted white clouds. I leisurely walked towards the alley where I was expecting my opponent to show up. I expected at least another hour until he showed up, but he appeared immediately. With a revolver in his hand, he stormed out of the alley. A women screamed as he took aim at me, startling him, causing his face to twist into an even uglier frown.

 

The tennis match was not just a game of fun you see. Well, for me it was, but for him, if he lost, then he would lose his money and ego. Out of spite, he came to take me hostage, hoping my father would pay him a nice sum of money for my return.

 

I slipped into my act; It wasn't hard for me to trip over my words and fall down, sniveling in fear. I felt far too much pleasure creating this ‘person.’ This ‘person’ is my innocence act. An act that allowed me to get pity and empathy while my opponent got spite.

 

I smirked, but quickly wiped it off my face.

 

This man in front of me once thought he was above everyone else. “HAH!” Look at him now! he is quivering and slobbering everywhere like a deranged mutt.

 

As I crawled backwards towards the rotating door of the hotel, the police officers placed at the nearby hot dog stand sprung into action. The police ran towards me as my opponent held the gun in one hand pointed at me. He left his other arm to hang limply at his side. My opponent adjusted his ripped, and alcohol smelling suit before tilting his head to look at the officers on patrol with a mad grin.

 

His head snapped back to me and he smirked while his finger closed on the trigger.

 

Bang!

 

A gunshot rang out, gun smoke and residue filling the air with the wonderful smell of sulfur and metal. Through the gaps in my fingers, I watched as my opponent stumbled backwards a step. He continued to stand, then smiled wider, like he had been told a very funny joke. Blood spurted from his mouth and from his chest. He feebly raised his arm again.

 

Bang! Bang! Bang!

 

Both the cops this time shot him.

 

He stumbled forwards once more, his hand grasped his chest. The revolver did a rotation around his index finger, the last of it’s rotation carrying it from his finger to the floor. When the metal rang out on the concrete, my opponents body crumpled inwards.

 

Ignoring the blood on my clothing, I ran towards one of the officers, kicking the gun into the drain as I ran past. I clutched onto his shirt, crying and sobbing into the thin cotton material.

 

“Check! Your move!”

 

The fabric hid my smile.

 

I have acquired a gun.